


Poison Heart

by Adenil



Category: Frozen (2013)
Genre: M/M, Serious, Sit back, This one will take a while, enjoy the ride
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-23
Updated: 2014-08-15
Packaged: 2018-01-26 06:57:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1678949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adenil/pseuds/Adenil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the Kingdom of the Southern Isles, those who commit the most heinous crimes against the state receive a judgment from each of the ruling brothers. Hans has already served eleven years in prison for his crimes against the neighboring country of Arendelle. Now, he must embark on a new journey as demanded by his eldest brother. This journey will force him not only to acknowledge his faults as a human, but to truly make amends for all of his misdeeds.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Brother Mine

Eleven years ago he had stood in much this same spot. He glanced around the room nervously, taking in the newly freshened drapes, and the spotless carpet. Everything looked so different, but the shape of the room was the same as it had always been. It reminded him, painfully, of his childhood. Of running through the halls and being caught up in his brothers strong arms, swung around and around, laughing.

 

_“Littlest one, I cannot play now. I need to speak to my people.”_

 

He scowled. Always his brother was too busy for him. Even now he was kept waiting for judgment. Eleven years ago he would have said that was the reason he had turned out so foul, that it wasn’t his fault. He had been neglected; his insane mother his only real source of human contact.

 

Today, he wasn’t that same person. But he still could not admit the true reason behind what he had done. Not even to himself.

 

He closed his eyes to the memories, and opened them again when he heard the footsteps of his brother.

 

Hans nearly gasped at the sight of his brother. He quickly averted his eyes from King Achim and fell to one knee before the throne. He watched King Achim’s robes swirling around his silk-clad feet as he approached the throne and sat before Hans, ready to lay his judgment upon him.

 

Hans felt his breath quicken. All he could think of was the judgment of his other brothers. One after another they had condemned him to a year in prison. Eleven years in total. Eleven years of cruelty and abuse. He tried to still his breathing as each day flooded back, perfectly preserved in the vessel of his mind. He thought of the hands of the other prisoners, rough, calloused, invasive. He thought of the guards and their power over him, all harsh words and harsher fists. He was nearly crying, his mind a whirlwind, as he thought _I can’t do it again. Not another year. Please._

 

“Hans.”

 

He snapped to attention, still examining the threads woven into the rug. He couldn’t look at his brother. Could never look up at an authority. They might see spite in his eyes when there was none. He might be punished.

 

“Brother, please. Look into my eyes.”

 

He held his breath for a moment, nervously attempting to regain his composure. Gradually, slowly, he looked up and gazed into his brother’s brown eyes.

 

The years had not been kind to King Achim. Nearly thirty years older than Hans, his face was lined with the story of a lost youth, of decisions that had no right answer. Achim had always ruled with his heart more than his head, and it had tortured him. The evidence of that torture stood out in plain relief across his wrinkled, cragged face. Only his eyes, bright and searching, belied the youthfulness he still felt inside.

 

“Brother,” Achim said again, as if tasting the word. “You have been away for a long time.”

 

Hans said nothing. If he spoke he would only draw his brother’s ire. Only cause more pain upon himself.

 

“Eleven years,” Achim continued. He seemed to consider the time. Hans wondered what had happened in those years, and why his other brothers did not stand by the King’s side in support of the punishment he was about to elucidate. “You have been imprisoned for longer than my youngest has been alive… Quite a long time. Perhaps, then, you are prepared for the judgment I will bestow upon you. I am afraid it will take longer than a year to complete.”

 

Hans’ heart clenched at the thought. He had never considered that his brother might send him to prison for _longer_ than a year. Perhaps he had not been good enough. Perhaps word had gotten back to his brother about—

 

He shuddered. No. No one would ever know about that but him.

 

Slowly, King Achim rose and made his way towards Hans. His face softened a bit as he approached, and he laid a hand on Hans’ shoulder.

 

“Will you not speak to me, Brother?”

 

“I—I am not sure what to say, my Lord,” Hans gasped out. His voice grated on his own ears roughly. It had been used for so little speaking that he hardly remembered how to speak at all.

 

His words seemed to make Achim sadder. “I see. I shall be swift, then. I will not be returning you to that prison.” He must have seen the shock of joy across Hans’ face, for he held up a hand to stay him. “But your punishment is not at an end. I feel that you have harmed many in your day—more even than I could ever count, for you were an expert at hiding the poison you spread amongst those you claim to love.”

 

King Achim pulled back then, and began to stroll around the chamber as if he was still turning it all over in his head. Hans stared straight ahead, not daring to follow him with his eyes.

 

“Even now I daily hear about a mess you caused long ago that still festers. My Brother— _Hans_ ,” he said with conviction. “You must make amends for your past wrongdoings. This is my judgment on you. That you shall travel the land and approach each of those you know in your heart you have wronged, and give them some sort of restitution for the ill you brought unto them.”

 

Suddenly he was kneeling before Hans. Hans yanked back in shock as his brother— _the King_ —reached out and took his hand, gently cradling it. “Hans, I know there can be no oversight on my part. That I can never truly know if you have made amends to all you have wronged. I hope that you will view this as a gift, and approach every person out of the goodness of your heart.”

 

Hans looked down at where his brother held his hand fast. He felt like screaming at the sight of his thick, short fingers grasping at his own. Every inch of him desired only to pull away, to run from the chamber and let the guards fell him where he stood.

 

Instead, he looked up at his brother again.

 

“I will not waste this opportunity, my King.”


	2. The Exiled Prince

It was not unusual for her court to be in a tizzy over a visiting foreigner. After the initial rush of goodwill and guests during the initial reopening of Arendelle, Elsa had seen a drop off in the number of visitors. A few came each year to demand assistance in a war effort, or to encourage trade. She wined and dined them and watched the fear and concern on their faces over the incredible power she wielded just beneath the surface.

 

None had ever dared declared war on Arendelle, and as long as Elsa, the Ice Queen lived, none would.

 

But this visitor was different. She had a history with this one. Most of her visitors had never tried to kill her, but this one had.

 

She had received word via bird only two days in advance, and immediately began preparations. A squadron of her finest men stood guard along the coast for his arrival—whether to protect him, or her people, she still wasn’t quite sure. She had ordered a cessation of other visitors on the day of his arrival. Normally she would hold an audience with her people and listen to their grievances. Not so this day. She needed her full concentration on the man who had once ruled her country through lies and deceit.

 

Queen Elsa was not entirely sure what to expect from the banished prince, but she wanted to impress. She had ordered a freshening of her finest robes and grandest dress. She watched in the mirror as she was fitted that morning, an unusual silence reigning over the room. The gown was embossed with silver and gold crocus flowers. They looked as if they were poking their sleepy heads from the pale blue cloth. It fit her well. In this gown she felt powerful, all mighty. She would be able to withstand whatever trick Hans intended to play on her.

 

She sat, then, in her throne, both dreading and desiring the inevitable to occur. A guard came to her and whispered that the Prince was on his way, and as an afterthought she froze her skin, giving it an unhealthy, ethereal sheen.

 

She watched as the doors at the end of the hall opened and Prince Hans entered, flanked on all sides by guards with spears drawn. She took a moment to examine him as he walked across the long hallway to meet her. He looked…sick, she decided. He was thin, his jaw and cheek bones far too pronounced, and his eyes were encircled by darkness. His stare seemed to stretch forward through space to examine something only he could see. He was pale and ghastly, clad in cheap garments that barely made the cut to be presented before her.

 

Finally, he reached her.

 

Elsa expected him to bow at the waist, as all royalty did in her presence. A measure of deference, while still acknowledging that they were, in essence, equal. Or perhaps she expected him to fall to one knee as her knights did, and declare himself at her service.

 

What he did instead surprised her.

 

Eyes still downcast, Hans feel immediately to his knees. He bowed low until his forehead touched the floor, prostrating himself to her.

 

Confused, Elsa looked to her guards, but they seemed just as surprised. She waited a long moment for Hans to speak, but when he did not she realized he was waiting for her to give him permission.

 

She cleared her throat and ran one cool hand up the sleeve of her dress absently. “Speak, Prince Hans. Tell me why you have come back after your banishment.”

 

“Yes, Queen Elsa. Although I am no longer worthy of that title.” His voice was muffled into the floor as he spoke, and Elsa leaned in to hear him. “I have been sent by King Achim to make amends for all of the wrongs I caused you and your people. The harm I did can never be truly undone, but I am at your service as I attempt to do so.”

 

Slightly taken aback, Elsa considered his words. “Sit up,” she said finally, and marveled as Hans obeyed. “Tell me more about King Achim’s orders.”

 

Hans took a deep breath, and Elsa saw what looked like fear across his face. She tried to read him as he spoke in slow, stuttering sentences about how he had served eleven years in prison, and how his brother had commanded he undo all the wrongs he had committed in his short life—not just those done to her, but to all the people he had encountered.

 

Elsa sat back, watching him closely as he explained. He seemed like an entirely different person. Gone was the cocky attitude of an usurper prince. In its place was a man not unlike a child. Deferent. Afraid. Lonely. Elsa felt, in her heart, that surely he must be lying. No one could make such a change, even in eleven years. But it had always been so difficult for her to read the faces of others, and now she found it more impossible than ever.

 

After a while she realized Hans had stopped speaking, and was waiting for her to respond.

 

“You have harmed many in my kingdom,” she said after a moment. “Not just me. I would…like to accept your apology, but I cannot do it blindly. Eleven years seems too short a time for the attempted murder of Arendelle’s entire royal family.” She raised a hand and waved over a servant, whispering a few orders in his ear and watching him walk away.

 

“However,” she said as she slowly rose. “I know how you can make it up to my people.” She approached Hans just as slowly, watching with abject interest as he shied away from her in fear. He was right to be afraid, she thought as she placed a hand on his chin and forced him to look up at her. She watched him wince at her cold touch, and knew he would have an ice burn there later. At that moment she didn’t care. All she could think about was her sister.

 

_Will you bless our wedding?_

_I thought he loved me._

_Does anyone love me?_

_Please, Elsa. If you love me, make this end._

 

If only she had been strong the first time, none of this would have happened.

 

Her grip tightened automatically. “You will go to each of my people,” she said carefully, trying to get a grip on her raging anger. “And you will apologize to each of them in turn. If they have a demand of you, you will fulfill it. You will do this across my lands until I deem you worthy enough to return. Do you understand?”

 

He seemed so small, then, as he nodded. “Of course, Queen Elsa. I am yours to command.”

 

She started to pull away, started to return to the calm, emotionless oasis of her throne. Before she could do so the door at the end of the hall flew open and a knight entered, carrying the motionless form of her sister.

 

“My Queen!” he shouted. “The Princess! She is dying!”

 

 


	3. Venom in Her Touch

Hans hardly knew what was happening. In one instance he was caught in the Queen’s icy hold, not knowing whether or not she would strike out against him. In the next she was tearing away from him and rushing down the hall in a blinding speed towards her sister. Her hands clutched at the hem of her skirt as she tripped into the knight, pulling her sister down to lay across her lap.

 

The guards surrounding him moved towards the Queen, and he moved with them. They stood stock still as the Queen cried over her sister’s still form.

 

“Oh, Anna,” she begged. “Not again, please not again.”

 

He watched her tug at her sister’s long sleeves as if the answer to her illness lay beneath them. To his surprise, it did. As Elsa pulled back her left sleeve she revealed inky black skin, mottled and rough. Elsa seemed confused.

 

“This isn’t right.” She turned to the guard. “Enter my chambers. On my desk you will find a grey stone. Retrieve it and bring it here immediately.”

 

Hans watched him run away. The door hung open behind him.

 

He turned back to where Elsa was desperately speaking to her sister. He watched as she placed a hand across Anna’s chest, just over her heart.

 

_No_ , he realized. _She’s speaking to herself._

 

“I can do it…” she muttered. “I could. I can. She would be okay. It would just be… No. Can’t. Won’t.”

 

He heard a shriek and saw Elsa turn to look over her shoulder, eyes wide. Standing in the doorway was a child with flowing black hair. There were tears in her eyes, falling onto the front of her dress. She was sobbing, her words intelligible.

 

“Someone get her out of here!” Elsa commanded. “Where is her father?”

 

Hans felt his hand stretch out uselessly towards the girl as a guard scooped her up and marched her out of the room. His arm fell as he looked into her deep, blue eyes.

 

_Her mother’s eyes_ , he thought belatedly. He looked down at Anna’s still form. He saw her chest rise and fall sporadically. Her eyes were closed, but he knew them well. Eyes that had looked upon him with love and hate. The same eyes as that young girl. A girl who could have been his own daughter, if he had been a different person.

 

A few moments passed in tense silence, save for Anna’s labored breathing and Elsa’s muttering. Finally, the knight returned with a large rock clutched in his hands. He seemed unsure as he set the rock at Elsa’s feet.

 

A collective gasp went over the crowd as the rock sprung to life, taking the shape of a small, rotund troll wearing a glowing yellow stone. Immediately the stone man stepped forward and placed a hand over Anna’s head, then over her heart.

 

“There is poison here,” he said simply.

 

Elsa’s face crumbled in agony. “Poison? Pabbie, did she—”

 

“No. This poison was placed by another.” Hovering one hand over the Princess’s heart, he raised his other to scan the crowd, his small grey eyes closed in concentration. Unexpectedly, he paused, and he opened his eyes to gaze forward at Hans. “Placed by him.”

 

It happened so suddenly that Hans did not think to fight back. He was forced to his knees by the guards, his hands held fast behind his back. A dozen spears were pressed to his neck. He watched Elsa rise up in a great, terrible rage. Her skin was frozen, and her eyes alight, as she snarled at him in despair. Her hand flew back and frost coalesced into a thin spike which she wasted no time in hurling at him, aiming directly for his heart.

 

In a flash, the stone man stood before him, and the ice deflected harmlessly off his body.

 

“Be still!” he shouted, and Elsa pulled back. “This was not intentional. The seed of poison was placed long ago. He may not even have realized it.”

 

“Pabbie,” Elsa choked out, her voice like a rush of tears. “This is the man that tried to kill me! Tried to kill _her_.” She gestured down where Anna lay prone on the floor.

 

“I know who he is. Elsa, tell your guards to take Anna to the infirmary. It takes time to heal a poisoned heart.”

 

“Time?” She asked, but she was already ordering her guards to gather up her sister. “Bring him as well,” she commanded, pointing to Hans, and together their small strange group followed the injured princess into the depths of the castle.

 

“Time,” Pabbie repeated. “And we must hope that time is enough. I do not know of any other cure.”

 

Elsa’s mouth was set in a grim line as she walked forward. Anna was placed in a bed and immediately nurses began to buzz around her.

 

Hans felt as though he might scream. _This isn’t how it was supposed to be_ , he thought as he watched Anna struggle to breathe.

 

“P-Pabbie,” he said, tasting the foreign name on his tongue as he turned to face the troll. He bowed his head in deference. “Please, tell me how I can fix this. I would give my own life to take this back.”

 

“You wronged her,” Pabbie said simply. “And that wrong put a poison in her heart. You are not the first who has had this ability.” He raised an arm, and lights danced from his fingertips. They took shape, depicting the shadow of a female form clad in blue, and a male form clad in green.

 

“The Queen has her own terrible power to contend with. One that vies for control of her mortal form. Your power does not need to beg control, because you gave yourself freely to it.”

 

Hans watched as the female form turned her back on the male. The man clutched at his head as if he was crying.

 

“You hurt others with your words, and did not stay by them long enough to see the true consequences of your actions.”

 

The man reached out, a dagger of black clutched in his hands. He drove it into the woman’s back and Hans felt tears in his eyes as the woman’s mouth opened in a silent, wrenching scream. The forms disappeared into the air.

 

“What I don’t understand is why it took so long for the poison to manifest itself,” Pabbie continued to himself. He examined as Elsa took Anna’s hand in hers, holding her tightly. “There must have been some outside force which kept it locked away. Now that it is free to spread, all those you wronged are in danger. Those you have wronged most deeply will feel the effects first.”

 

Hans was shaking his head. He didn’t realize it, but suddenly he had backed himself in a corner. He clutched at his skull, feeling the hatred for him in the air and within himself. He felt like shouting and, suddenly, he realized he already was.

 

He turned his face to the vaulted ceiling, screaming his anger to heavens. _Why?_ At that moment his fear was not for Anna, who was pained deeply, but for another he had hurt even more.

 

_Why?_


	4. Thrum, Thrum

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Kristoff is in this one!

It was late when Kristoff finally went to visit Anna.

 

Night had fallen and the castle was hushed. The servants tread lightly for fear of disturbing the delicate stupor that Elsa had fallen into. She had retired to her quarters eventually, upon the insistence of the doctors and Pabbie.

 

_“Your people need you. Now more than ever_. _”_

 

Still, Kristoff knew that Anna would not be alone.

 

With a deep, steadying breath, he pulled back the curtain surrounding her bed. His eyes feel immediately on the raven-haired man beside her, bowed over her, then to her still form. He watched for a moment before sitting across from the man. He saw the way he clutched at her hand, as if begging her to respond. He felt his heart clench in response.

 

“How is she doing?” he whispered.

 

Leif glanced up at him only briefly. “Her condition is unchanged.” He looked down again.

 

Kristoff nodded silently. He sat with them for a moment. He could feel the tension in the air as he tried to pay his respects. Leif hated him—he knew that—but he hadn’t known how _much_ he was hated. He tried so hard to never spend time with the man. For the past three years they had been merely passing enemies in the hall.

 

He sighed. He knew Leif was right to hate him, and that he was right to hate Leif. Each had something the other wanted, and could never have.

 

Finally, he stood up. “I’ll leave you two alone,” he said as he began to pull back the curtain.

 

“He’s over there,” Leif said suddenly.

 

Kristoff paused. “Who?”

 

“The…Prince. He’s on the other side of the room behind the blue curtain. He was, yelling, I was told, and fell unconscious. Elsa took pity on him and allowed him to be placed in the bed.”

 

“I see.” He felt his hand fall to his side as he dropped the curtain. “Leif, please. How is… How is your daughter?”

 

Leif looked away, anger in his eyes. “Tyra is fine. She doesn’t understand what is happening.” He took a deep breath. “Please, Kristoff, just go.”

 

Kristoff obeyed, closing the curtain behind him.

 

His feet carried him automatically to the next bed. Even though he knew what lay beyond the curtain, he was not prepared to deal with it as he pulled it back and locked eyes with the man slowly killing his first love.

 

He knew he should be angry. He could feel it in his heart like a shadow, reminding him. But he found he wasn’t as he sat beside the banished prince. He could feel Hans’ eyes on him as he cradled his head in his hands. For a moment Kristoff allowed himself to acknowledge his true feelings. Instead of sorrow or anger, he just felt empty. He had nothing more to give.

 

“I know you didn’t do this on purpose,” he said after a moment. He laughed. “Well, this part at least. The stuff you did wrong was definitely on purpose, but I don’t think anyone could guess that it would poison the princess a decade later.”

 

“Eleven years.”

 

“What?” Kristoff leaned in, not quite hearing.

 

Hans looked away. “Eleven years. It’s been eleven years.” Kristoff watched his chest rising and falling for a moment. “Your name is Kristoff.”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“You were Anna’s true love?”

 

There it was. A clench of his heart. Not so empty after all. “No.”

 

“I see. May I go to her?”

 

“Her husband might not like that.”

 

Then Hans looked him, truly looked at him, and Kristoff felt himself gasping for air. He felt as though he might drown in the sorrow behind the eyes of what was supposed to be his most hated enemy. He wondered in amazement at all that could happen in eleven years, at all that could change a person. Finally, he stood up.

 

“I’ll take you anyway.”

 

They made their way to Anna’s bedside. Kristoff pushed away Leif’s protests and settled at his side, watching Hans closely. He still didn’t trust him, but there was little he could do that had not already been done.

 

He watched as Hans gently picked up Anna’s left hand, cradling the blackened flesh lightly. He seemed to stutter internally for a moment before steeling.

 

“Anna,” he said over Leif’s splutters of indignation. “I must make amends for what I have done. However, I don’t know how. I don’t know how I can express the sorrow I feel to see you this way and know that I have caused it. I am sorry, Anna, so sorry. What I did was wrong, I know that now and I should have… no, I am being honest. I knew it was wrong even then, and I still did it. You do not need to ever forgive me, but please get better so that you can hear my apology.”

 

At some point Hans had closed his eyes, so only Leif and Kristoff saw the blush of pink skin pushing back black on her hand. With each word of his apology the poison seemed to recede until it was hidden completely by Anna’s clothing. Kristoff heard Leif gasp in surprise, but already he was turning away.

 

“Watch him,” he ordered. “I’m getting Pabbie.”


	5. Cracked

“Regret?” Elsa shook her head in confusion. “Pabbie, you said there was no cure but time?”

 

“None that I _knew_ of, but even I do not know everything.” He shrugged his rocky shoulders and smiled. “Elsa, this is good news. Anna’s recovery is quickening. The only explanation is that Hans expressed true regret for his actions, and that stilled the poison growing in her heart.”

 

Elsa frowned to herself. She gripped her arm, tightly, trying desperately to ignore everyone in the room save for her sister and Pabbie. “If that’s true, than would another apology heal her even more?”

 

“It’s possible.” He turned to Hans, who was listening to their conversation with fascinated interest. “It would be best if you spoke your regret aloud to everyone you’ve harmed like this. It is quite astonishing, actually. Every curse has a positive. Yours seems to be spurring you to make amends, which can only benefit you.”

 

Hans nodded intently at his words. “You are so wise,” he said. “I would not have made the connection myself.” He tapped his gloved finger against his chin. Elsa felt anger building inside her at the action. He was acting like an academic as her sister lay dying.

 

“Elsa,” Hans said suddenly, and she startled to attention. “If this is true, then I must postpone making amends to your people. I fear there is another to whom I must apologize immediately.”

 

The skin on her arm cracked beneath her powerful grip. She glanced around, but it appeared only she had heard the sound. She counted silently to herself, willing her anger under control. She glanced down at Pabbie, who was nodding in agreement with Hans’ words.

 

“Very well,” she said curtly. “I will provide you with whatever assistance you need to ensure you return.”

 

Hans smiled at her, and it tore through her like a knife. She tuned out as he began describing the supplies he would need, and considered the other men in the room.

 

Leif was still sitting blankly at Anna’s bedside. The way he gripped her hand indicated he feared losing her, but the absentness in his eyes told her his head was elsewhere. She wondered for a moment what he was thinking about before deciding it didn’t matter in the slightest. She would never understand the man, or what her sister had seen in him.

 

Kristoff, on the other hand, was actively listening to the conversation. He stood in one corner of the room, his arms crossed over his chest, pretending to examine the wall.

 

She decided it was enough.

 

Elsa pushed past Hans and waved Kristoff over. “A moment of your time, Kristoff,” she said, and together they walked across the room to where they would not be heard.

 

“What do you think of him?” she asked when they were alone.

 

Kristoff seemed to consider for a moment. “Pabbie trusts him,” he said. “That’s usually enough for me.”

 

She glanced back. “He has always been my rock.” At Kristoff’s little laugh she glanced up and smiled. “So to speak. Kristoff, I have to ask you something. As Queen.”

 

Suddenly serious, Kristoff leaned in. “Of course. Anything.”

 

“I need you to travel with Hans.”

 

He balked. “Okay, anything but that.”

 

“This is serious, Kristoff!” She sighed in exasperation. “I can’t trust him to come back. I can’t even trust him to actually go where he says he’s going. To help someone else? And he won’t share their name, or anything about them? Even I know that’s suspicious.” Her hand was gripping her arm tightly again, against her will. She felt like her arm might break off. “I trust you,” she said after a moment. Kristoff was looking at her with concern. “I trust you to do whatever needs to be done to help Anna.”

 

As one, they looked over to where Anna was sleeping soundly, unaware of the turmoil her illness had caused.

 

Kristoff sighed. “Why not ask Leif?” he asked. Elsa didn’t answer. They both already knew the reason why. He seemed to waver over the decision for a moment, and so Elsa pulled out all the stops.

 

“I also think it would be good for you to get out of the castle. I was… going to ask you anyway.” She reached forward and placed her hand on Kristoff’s arm. It was something she had seen other people doing. A sign of concern, good will. He shied away from her cold touch and she dropped her arm. “You’re always welcome here, Kristoff. But perhaps you don’t always want to _be_ here.”

 

He sighed and scrubbed his hands over his face. He stood still for a moment, holding his head in his hands. Finally he spoke, his voice muffled by his fingers.

 

“All right. I’ll do it.”

 

Standing shoulder-to-shoulder, they returned to where Hans stood and explained the situation. Elsa watched as Hans agreed whole-heartedly to the plan, already reaching out to shake Kristoff’s hand.

 

Her skin crackled under her hand again as she squeezed her arm. She could picture the way it looked, like broken glass. A spider web of cracked ice spiraling from each place where her finger tips gripped into her frozen flesh. She was thankful for her long sleeves, concealing her breakdown. Later she would repair the damage with a breath of frost from her fingertips. At that moment, however, she was impotent to stop the spread of damage. Powerless against her own strength.


	6. Swiftly Moving

“You’re doing very well today, Sven.” Kristoff ran a hand over Sven’s flank, brushing off the frost that had accumulated on his fur. He quickly examined his friend and steed, rushing his fingertips over his back and legs to feel for damaged limbs. He paused at Sven’s right front leg, feeling a lump there.

 

“Hm,” he mumbled to himself. “Have to ask Elsa to give you a tune up before we go.” He patted Sven on the shoulder and smiled to himself as Sven snuffed his jacket, looking for a treat. “Hey. Hey!” he laughed. He pushed away the reindeer’s head. “I don’t have any on me! I asked her to bring some of the special carrots, okay? You’ll just have to wait.” He started to lean in, to voice Sven’s response, but he paused as the door to the stables opened.

 

He glanced over as Hans walked in, a heavy pack on one shoulder, and a map clutched in his other hand. He glanced up at him, and Kristoff watched his green eyes widen. Hans bowed briefly and Kristoff rolled his eyes, looking away.

 

“I apologize if I am interrupting your preparations,” Hans said. Kristoff still didn’t look at him. He brushed Sven’s coat deliberately as he listened to Hans walk towards him. “I mapped our route with the help of your court cartographer.”

 

Kristoff heard a heavy sound as Hans set his pack in the straw. He traced out a little pattern in Sven’s fur, the shape of a five-pointed star, and listened to Hans rustling parchment.

 

“Here.” Hans was suddenly beside him, his breath coming in small smoky puffs in the cool air. Kristoff jumped and looked over at the map in his hands. He leaned against Sven, feeling the reindeer’s coolness against his side.

 

“We’ll be going through these three towns, in addition to Arendelle’s capital proper.” Hans traced the path with one gloved hand. “That should take about four days, perhaps five if we hit delays. Then we head through the Western pass and into the mountains. Three days later we will arrive at our destination.” He tapped a small x-mark on the map.

 

“That’s pretty high in the mountains,” Kristoff said. He took the map from Hans and looked at it closely. “And you overestimate how fast we can travel. I’ve got Sven, but with you on a normal horse this trip will take at least two weeks.”

 

“That won’t be a problem.”

 

They both looked up as Elsa entered. Kristoff winced at the way her face was drawn tightly. Her lips were pursed and her eyes solid and piercing. He began to take an automatic step back from her distaste—a learned reaction to spending eleven years with the Ice Queen—but he ran into Sven. He placed a steadying hand on the reindeer.

 

“Queen Elsa?” Hans asked, bowing his head in deference.

 

Elsa pushed the door to the stables open and a sprightly horse made of crystal-clear ice bounded in. It seemed to glow blue in the soft lantern-light of the stables. Its mane sparkled and glistened, letting off tiny snowflakes. Its hooves were sharp, slicing through the straw on the floor. Kristoff heard Hans gasp in appreciation, even as his own heart clenched in trepidation.

 

“Elsa…” he began.

 

She held up a hand. The horse presented itself to Hans, bowing its head before him. “I know, Kristoff. Hans,” she snapped, and Hans immediately bowed his head again. “When I discovered I could create life and end it with my power, I vowed not to use it again. But these are unusual circumstances. I have created this steed to bear you to your destination. Its orders are to bring you there and back, and to follow Kristoff’s orders. I don’t want you disappearing.”

 

Hans placed a closed fist on his chest, over his heart, and bowed deeply to Elsa. “I understand. I will return to help Anna as soon as possible. I won’t betray your trust.”

 

“You’ve already done that,” she said shortly. She turned on her heel and marched out, her blue dress swirling around her legs.

 

She couldn’t have seen the pained look that flashed across Hans’ face, but Kristoff saw it. He watched as Hans turned away, his hand moving to hide his face as he regained his composure. Kristoff turned back to Sven, wondering if he should feel pity or glee. He felt neither.

 

He ran a hand over Sven’s injury again and decided it could wait until after their trip. No use bothering Elsa further.

 

“Come on,” he said after a moment. “Let’s get packed and find a way to saddle that horse without freezing your skin off.”

 

Hans glanced up at him, smiling appreciatively. “Thank you, Kristoff.” He patted the horse once more on the flank and began to rummage through the horse tack.

 

Kristoff watched his bent form for a moment. He took in the sight of Hans’ broad shoulders working steadily with the saddle. His brown hair was unkempt and pulled back into a thin ponytail. Kristoff found it very odd. The man in front of him seemed entirely different from the one who had tried to murder Elsa, and left Anna to die.

 

With a start, Kristoff realized that he was leaving Anna to die again. This death seemed slower, more subdued, perhaps less imminent. But still Hans was leaving her to the hands of fate to pursue his own goals. He wondered if Hans realized he was doing it again, or if he even cared. He considered broaching the subject before telling himself it didn’t matter.

 

After all, if Hans was leaving Anna to pursue his own interests, then so was Kristoff. It would be rather hypocritical of him to bring it up now.


	7. Layover

It was late evening by the time they managed to get out of Arendelle, taking only backs streets and less-traveled routes to avoid the prying eyes of its citizens. They rode through the night, and arrived in the next town the following afternoon.

 

The maps had said Holmsbu City, but to Hans it appeared more like a village, or perhaps a hovel. It boasted only a single inn and tavern surrounded on all sides by densely packed cottages and trees. A narrow cobblestone road began a few paces from the city’s edge and expanded into a central square that was only twenty strides in diameter.

 

He thought, briefly, that this hovel-of-a-town was smaller than the royal gardens in his Brother’s castle. He wondered for a moment why he had ever wanted to rule such a place before squashing down such a vindictive thought.

 

The sun was high in the sky as they entered the town. Hans was about to suggest they ride through when he glanced to Kristoff, who was stifling another yawn.

 

“Shall we rest in the inn?” he suggested.

 

Kristoff yawned again, and Hans pursed his lips to kill his automatic yawning response. “That’s probably for the best,” Kristoff said. “I can flash Elsa’s royal decree and they’ll give us a room.”

 

Hans dismounted. He found himself frowning at the thought. “That seems dishonest. I can pay for the room.” He led his magical beast to the nearest post and tied it up. His footsteps squeaked in the thin layer of snow that had fallen throughout the night. Winter was beginning to descend, and although Arendelle’s winters would never again be as bad as the one Elsa had caused, it was still quite chilly.

 

He shivered as Kristoff left Sven beside the ice horse, not bothering to tie the reindeer up. Hans knew that an ice horse and a reindeer in full regalia would draw some attention, but he hoped to be asleep long before the townsfolk noticed.

 

“If you really want to spend all your money, you can do that.” Kristoff didn’t look back as he took long strides into the inn and tavern.

 

Hans followed behind, still frowning. He still didn’t quite know what to do about Kristoff. The other man seemed subdued enough, not particularly angry or spiteful towards him. It was certainly a welcome reprieve to his interactions with Elsa. But it still confused him. When he had left more than eleven years ago, it has seemed Anna had found her true love, however dorky and fool-hardy he might be. Now, Kristoff still clung to her, lived at the castle with her, her sister, and her husband who was not him.

 

Kristoff had said perhaps two words to him on their journey through the wilderness. Now, he stood silently to one side as Hans approached the bar to ask about a room for the evening.

 

He exchanged a few pleasant words with the inn keeper, glad that his face was not so well known in Arendelle as it was in the Southern Isles. They should be able to move freely as long as he did not reveal himself.

 

“My companion and I would like a room for the afternoon. We’ve been traveling through the night and could use some respite.”

 

“Certainly, certainly,” the inn keeper said. He listed a few prices and Hans started to choose the cheapest one. He needed to make sure the supplies his brother and Elsa had given him would last, after all. The inn keeper glanced around as they haggled. “You said companion...where are they?”

 

Hans turned to where Kristoff had stood only a moment before, only to find the spot empty. He started to say something, to look around for Kristoff, but was interrupted by a shout.

 

“Get yer hands off me! She’s got the plague! Don’t touch her!”

 

Hans whirled around at the noise. He saw Kristoff yanking a tall, burly man away from a slight young woman. Kristoff held him by his wrist, his face impassive, as the woman scurried to hide on the other side of a table. The burly man spit at Kristoff.

 

“Let go of me, you oaf! She’s endangering us just by being here.”

 

“She’s just a traveler,” Kristoff said calmly. Already a crowd was gathering as the denizens of the tavern took interest in the fight. Hans moved away from the bar to join them, hovering at the edge.

 

“Look at her! Show him your arms, whelp!”

 

The woman looked nervously around at the rowdy crowd. Her muddy eyes passed over Kristoff, the man, and then the crowd before stopping for a moment at Hans. She seemed confused, but snapped back to attention. Carefully, she pushed up her right sleeve and revealed normal skin. Hans felt the crowd relax as she did so, only to tense as she pushed up her left sleeve, all the way, and revealed a splotch of inky black.

 

“It is the plague!” someone shouted, and immediately the crowd began to push away like a wave, sweeping Hans up.

 

“Drive her away!”

 

“Don’t touch her!”

 

“How did it get so far north?”

 

“Get a torch!”

 

“Whoa, whoa. Stop!” Kristoff bellowed. Hans watched as he threw aside the burly man, slightly impressed at his strength. The blonde man dug into his cloak and pulled forth a bound parchment, emblazoned with the royal seal. “We’re from the castle so everyone is just going to _sit down_ while we deal with the situation.” He glanced up. “Hans? Something you would like to say?”

 

Hans sighed, but moved forward. _I suppose moving freely was merely a pipe dream._ Already the crowd was rushing away from him as if he, too, carried the plague. It seemed even if his face was not recognized, someone from the castle with _his_ name was suspicious enough.

 

He stopped a few paces from the woman just in case it _was_ the plague and observed her. She had again fixed him with her muddy, muddled stare and held her sleeve up so that he could view the mottled black skin of her arm. It looked like spider’s silk, stretching out in lacy ribbons. It looked painful.

 

Hans leaned back and glanced at Kristoff. “It does look like what happened to…Like what we’ve seen before.”

 

“Do you recognize her?”

 

He looked back, examining her face more closely. He looked into her brown eyes, registered her matted, mousy hair. She was very generic looking. She seemed to recognize him, but stayed silent, merely staring at him.

 

“No,” he said finally. “I don’t recognize her. But that doesn’t mean anything.”

 

As if on cue, she doubled over, clutching at her stomach. The veins of black throbbed a deep green and snaked out, claiming more of her flesh as their own. She coughed wretchedly and as she opened her mouth Hans could see the inside was black as night as well. He took a step back even as Kristoff rushed forward to catch her.

 

“Get us a room,” Kristoff ordered. “This is on you, Hans.”


End file.
